As snow retreats from rural fields, dozens of deer emerge from months of forest-bound browsing to graze on fresh tufts of grass and overlooked corn <\/p>\n
The warm sunshine is turning the frozen soil into a thin layer of oozy mud, which causes my footing to be less than stable; it is also causing my clothes to become candidates for a laundry commercial.<\/p>\n
But the soft ground is to my advantage, as it mutes my footsteps as I work my way along the tree-lined fence.<\/p>\n
Just out of sight, just over the rise, and spread throughout several surrounding fields, are deer. Lots of deer. There may be as many as 80, looking very much like a herd of small sized cattle. But these were indeed wild animals, and they do not like to be disturbed, especially when feeding out in the open.<\/p>\n
Crouching over, at times bending so low that my hands are used as support (mental note to self: wear waterproof gloves next time), I cautiously approach the crest of the hill.<\/p>\n
Along the fence row that I’m working my way along, are clusters of young cherry trees, each clump providing a bit of cover to disguise my presence. As each new stand of trees is reached, I rise slowly to scan the fields.<\/p>\n
I mutter to myself, “Yep, still there. Don’t think they’ve seen me. Maybe I can get a little closer yet.” And it’s another belly crawl in the cold mud to the next stop.<\/p>\n
These deer are anxious to follow the retreating snow into the fields, as they’ve spent the last several months confined to forest trails, having to exist on a diet of hemlock and maple twigs. The March thaw allows for a much needed break from their wintertime routine, and these tufts of grass and bits of overlooked corn are a gourmet delight.<\/p>\n
To gain the vantage point I want, the last 20 metres must be covered by crawling on elbows and knees, and the wet mud clings tenaciously as I soak up a bit of the environment.<\/p>\n
I feel a bit of satisfaction upon reaching my position, as the closest deer is about 80 metres away, and although I’m well within its range of sight, sound and smell, it is unaware of my presence.<\/p>\n
I wriggle into the stand of choke cherry trees, and wedge myself into the tangle of large rocks, roots and branches. Let the show begin.<\/p>\n
There are 23 deer in this field, and an unknown number scattered along the fence lines. Their colours range from sandy-tan to hereford-red to blackish-grey; some blend into the countryside with amazing ease, others stand out like boulders in a hay field. Their sizes and ages are just as varied.<\/p>\n
A yearling approaches a doe and makes an effort to nurse. The doe gently licks the younger one’s neck and pushes it away. The yearling insists on nursing, so the doe hauls off and kicks it on the shoulder with her foreleg. The yearling bounces away and resumes feeding on the sparse ground cover.<\/p>\n
A large buck, dark with a white muzzle, walks with aged pride ahead of a newly arriving group of five. He is very tired, as his feet hit the ground with heavy jolts and his legs move with some restriction. He wanders throughout the gathering without contact from the others.<\/p>\n
A younger buck is feeding by the far fence line, and my camera lens magnifies him enough for me to see a large wound on his flank. The fur has been pulled or scraped away, leaving a plate-sized patch of bare skin. But he walks with ease and doesn’t lick the wound, so I assume it looks worse than it really is.<\/p>\n
The elegant and sleek does are easy to pick out, as they have an air of grace and beauty to them. While the bucks strut about and the yearlings cavort, the does have a ‘cultured’ look to them, and quietly go about their business of foraging.<\/p>\n
An hour passes and the deer have covered this field, hopped the wire fence into the east field, and are grazing their way back towards the forest. The sun’s rays are striking us horizontally, creating a unique stage-light effect. As the deer disappear behind a roll in the field’s topography, I decide to depart as well.<\/p>\n
As I retrace my muddy trail, this time walking upright, the sun slides below the western horizon and the sky turns into a washed mixture of muted pinks and purples. Silhouetted against this coloured curtain is the form of a great horned owl, flying from forest to fence post; it is now her turn to use the field.<\/p>\n
David J. Hawke is a freelance writer and naturalist who lives in rural North Simcoe County. He has been continuously creating weekly nature stories since 1989\u2026 and thinks that there are still many more topics to cover!<\/p>\n
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